Not anymore.
It didn’t look like he had any. His eyebrows weren’t blonde anymore either, but a stark black on his tan, lean face. His eyes were still that amazing blue, surrounded by lashes that would make a model envious. The black cloth covering his head didn’t look anything like a fashion statement and she had a feeling he cared about as much for fashion now as he had when they’d been younger.
She’d been the clotheshorse. Jeans and a T-shirt had always suited Blake just fine and he’d looked damn nice in them, too. He’d filled them out good in high school, but now…whoa.
Yeah, he’d changed all right. His face was harder and his eyes held a weary cynicism. It hurt some, seeing that. The boy had been a heartstopper—all her teenage fantasies, before she’d stopped having them, had centered around that beautiful face and clever mouth. The reality of the man he’d become was every bit as mesmerizing. Too bad Del had stopped having fantasies a long time ago. He would have taken the starring role.
Despite everything that had happened, Blake still had the ability to make her heart race and her mouth go dry. She almost wished she remembered how to have a fantasy. One about Blake would be a welcome respite from the nightmares that usually came visiting while she slept.
When he started in their direction, Del almost turned and darted out the door. She didn’t want to see him yet. She decided she might be ready to talk to him, over distance, in a few more years. Ten. Twenty, tops.
But she didn’t run.
Del had come here to put running behind her—not run away the first time she came face to face with her ex.
He stopped a few feet in front of her and Del held herself still as he looked her over, starting at the thick-soled boots on her feet and traveling upwards. His eyes lingered on her hair and she braced herself for the questions. They didn’t come, though. Instead, he just smirked a little and said, “Nice to see you again, Deedee.”
His voice was soft and casual, not showing one hint of the betrayal he’d felt when he had come home and his girl was gone. She hadn’t called him, hadn’t left him any kind of note—Deedee had just been gone. This was the first time Blake had seen her in twelve years, but he wasn’t prepared for it.
Not one bit.
Her eyes met his, solemn and unsmiling. Her mouth was naked and set in a flat, unyielding line. Deedee had loved to laugh but the cool stranger standing before him didn’t look like she knew how. He held his hand out. She hesitated before placing her hand in his. Her nails were unpainted. Blake didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so—bare. No make up. No jewelry that he could see, except for that black cord around her neck. It had some sort of pendant on it, but it was hidden under the high neck of her shirt. No earrings.
Nothing.
Her voice was soft, huskier than he remembered. “I go by Del now.”
Her eyes dropped to his hand and he realized he was still holding hers. Instead of letting go, he squeezed gently. Her eyes widened and her pupils flared a little. She tugged on her hand and slowly, he let go. He watched as her hand closed into a fist. In the base of her throat, he could see her pulse slamming away.
The bell hanging over the diner’s door jangled and Blake lifted his gaze. The woman standing just behind Deedee’s shoulder still looked a lot like Deedee, thanks to plastic surgery. Or rather, she looked a lot like he would have expected Deedee to look.
Well, if Deedee had been the soulless bitch her mother was.
“Hello, Blake. Have you seen Delilah?” Louisa’s voice dripped with a rich, cultivated southern accent, just a little too high society for Prescott, Tennessee. It was a pretty enough voice, but it had about the same effect on Deedee that Blake would have expected if she had swallowed a live rat.
A look of rampant disgust and distaste crossed her face before she carefully blanked her features. Except her eyes. Her eyes were cold as ice. Blake shifted so he could still see her face as she looked at her mother.
“Louisa.”
Louisa’s eyes went wide. “Delilah?” One ringed, manicured hand fluttered up and she touched her throat. “My word. Is that you?”
“Yes.” As she stared at her mother, something moved through her. Del had no idea what she thought she was going to feel, seeing her mom again. But thankfully, there was none of the hurt or betrayal that had pushed her to crying so many times. Just anger—and distaste.
Del had been told often enough growing up that she had a lot of her dad on the inside, and her mother on the outside. Right now, she wished she’d looked more like her dad than her mom. Of course, it was that part of her that came from Dad that gave her the strength to stand in front of her mother right now.
“My. Haven’t you grown up? Your hair is absolutely charming.” Louisa recovered quickly. She was too hung up on herself not to. Del figured nothing she did or said would have too much of an effect on Louisa. Well, maybe one thing. But she wasn’t going to relive her personal hell just to get back at her mother. “I simply can’t believe you didn’t let me and your father know you were coming to town.”
Del curled her lip. “That bastard is not my father.” She dropped her voice and took a step closer. She leaned in and put her mouth on level with her mother’s ear. “You call him that, ever again, and you will be sorry.” Louisa inhaled sharply, and satisfied that her mother had gotten the point, Del stepped back.
Louisa’s expression never changed but her eyes glinted like green ice. “I heard that you are staying at Manda’s. I know you must have so much to catch up on, but I’ve missed you. Won’t you come stay at home?”
“Oh, yeah. Like I’m going to do that. Not.”
Louisa’s hand flew out and caught Del’s wrist. What the… There was a very, very strange look in Louisa’s eyes as she dug her nails into Del’s wrist. “Darling, you must. There is so much for us to talk about.”
Del twisted her hand and shoved, breaking her mother’s grip with a single, effective move. She’d had to use it a time or two before. Once she’d gotten some kind of hold back on her life, self-defense was the first goal she had set for herself. She wouldn’t ever be helpless again. Not ever. After the first few months, she was able to walk down the street with her head held up and she could look other people in the eye again.
Aside from the confidence it gave her, which was something of a miracle in itself, it came in handy in her line of work. The kids she worked with, for the most part, were victims. But after a while, some victims had a bad habit of becoming the victimizer. The regular self-defense courses were one way she had of making sure she didn't become one of the victimized again. Never again. It didn't happen too often, but occasionally she did have to use some of the self-defense skills. While she’d been forced to use it a few times, it hadn’t ever felt so damned good. Not until now. Del smiled a little. “Mother dear, there is nothing for us to talk about. Not now. Not ever.” She gave Louisa a cold, brittle smile. “Leave. Me. Alone.”
She glanced at Blake. Sadness filled her. He was watching her with that same, intent stare she remembered from high school. Like she was the only person in the room. And it still had the weird effect of making her heart dance in her chest. If she wasn’t so screwed up inside… She cut off the what if thoughts before they could fully form.
What ifs were fairy tales and Del was damaged goods. She wasn’t so messed up that she couldn’t realize it was the victim inside her talking. She did all the things she knew she was supposed to. She had a small, select group of friends she could talk to and there was even a support group she hit when things got too rough. The other stuff, she dealt with, attending her meetings faithfully and she was determined she wouldn’t ever slide down the dark road she’d walked for so long.
But she was also realistic enough to know that getting past all her issues was still a long, long time coming. And it may never come.
Everybody in the diner was looking their way. A few had the manners to pretend otherwise, but Del wasn’t fooled. Her reunion with Mommy Dearest was going t
o be fuel for gossip straight through lunch hour, maybe even into dinner, if nothing else exciting happened in town. Del didn’t care. She just wanted to get away from the bitch.
She brushed around Louisa and headed for the door without looking or talking to anybody. She’d apologize to Vance later. Right now, all she wanted was to climb in her car and get back to Cincinnati. That wasn’t an option, but at least she could—
The bell jangled over the diner as the door opened. Even before Louisa called out, Del knew who it was. She wasn’t lucky enough for Louisa to actually listen to her. She didn’t turn around, though. Del kept walking, turning the corner on High Street. Her car was at Vance’s office, a block down the road. Louisa called out her name again and Del blew out a breath.
“Might as well get it over with.” She stopped walking and turned to wait for her mother. Leaning her shoulder against the window, she glanced inside while she waited for Louisa. Louisa never ran. She strolled in her two-inch pumps like she was taking a walk on the beach.
It gave Del a minute to compose herself and she spent it staring through the window. There were a couple of pieces of canvas on the floor, splashed with paint. Seemed another store was going to open. But right now it was closed and Del had the pleasure of facing her mother without an audience.
Oh, joy.
Now that they were out of hearing range, Del didn’t bother to lower or hide her voice. “You obviously didn’t get the point, Louisa. I don’t want to see you. Period. Not for any reason.”
Louisa dropped all motherly affectations and gave Del an icy smile. “I do realize that, Delilah. But you’re a Prescott. There are certain expectations of you and you will meet them. Keeping that in mind, I’m planning a small get-together. You’ll attend naturally—”
Without batting a lash, Del replied, “You wanna bet?” Louisa’s eyes narrowed. Twelve or thirteen years ago, Del would have reacted a little different. Faked obedience or worse, she might have done whatever it was that her mother wanted.
But she didn’t owe her mother any kind of loyalty. As far as Del was concerned, she didn’t even owe Louisa respect.
“Delilah—”
Del lifted a hand and shook her head. “Drop it. Now. Otherwise, I’m going to start recounting just why I don’t want to see you. Why I will not see him. And I won’t be quiet about it. Now go away.”
The ice in Louisa’s voice all but dripped from her words as she said, “You are a Prescott, Delilah. You will maintain your dignity—”
“Dignity.” Del didn’t bother to lower her voice. “You’re right. Dignity is something to prize when you laying on the floor, bleeding—”
“Delilah.” Louisa’s face went white and she looked around. Assured that they didn’t have an audience, Louisa edged closer. Her smile was brittle and her eyes were sharp. “Prescotts do not air our grievances in public.”
“Grievances,” Del repeated. “You know what, a grievance would be if I yelled at you because you wouldn’t let me stay out past curfew on prom night. A grievance would be me wrecking my car and you refusing to get another one. That’s a grievance. Being raped is a hell of a lot more than that.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Louisa lift her hand. Del lifted her chin and said, “Go ahead. Do it. But you ought to know, I fight back now.”
Slowly, Louisa lowered her hand. But the look in her eyes clearly said that Louisa wanted to slap her daughter. “I’m not coming to the manor, Mother. Get that through your head. I’m not coming for tea, I’m not staying there while I’m in town and if you decide to throw some last minute party, you go right ahead. Just don’t count on me being there. I will never step foot in that house so long as you and that bastard live there.”
“Regardless of your issues with me and you…William,” Louisa corrected when she saw the look on Del’s face. “We have things we need to discuss. Family business.”
“Family business,” Del repeated. She smirked a little and then she outright laughed. “There is no family business that I need to know about, Mother dear. I’ve gone twelve years without discussing family business and I’d prefer to go the rest of my life without discussing a damn thing with you. Now, I have things to do.”
Chapter Three
Oh, yeah. The party girl was definitely gone. Since she’d walked out of the diner early that morning, Blake had tried to convince himself maybe she hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought. It wasn’t like they’d said more than a few words to each other.
But he’d been wasting his time. The girl he’d known was long gone. Blake couldn’t help but miss her laugh, the way her face glowed when she smiled and the mischievous glint that would appear in her eyes.
It was Thursday night and most of the people coming to the reunion were down at the lake for the barbecue. There were two bonfires going and the attendees roamed back and forth between them, laughing, talking. There was an impromptu karaoke contest running and Blake worked hard to tune out the sound of Vance belting out a very bad rendition of “Live Like You Were Dying”.
The firelight flickered and danced over Dee’s face as Blake circled around to stand beside her. “He’s no Tim McGraw, is he?”
A smile curved up the corners of her mouth and she glanced towards her cousin. “Definitely not.”
He offered her one of the longnecks he grabbed a few minutes earlier and she shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“Something besides a beer? Manda couldn’t have done better if she paid somebody to set up a cash bar.” Blake gestured towards the series of folding tables set up by the tree line.
“No. I’m not into drinking.” She’d left her hair loose and Blake watched a long-fingered, slender palm come up, shoving the dense, dark hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. With the dark hair and the pseudo-Goth clothes, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see some serious metal in her ears, or elsewhere.
But she didn’t have even a pair of earrings on.
The shirt she wore clung like a second skin and it was just a shade or two darker than said skin, giving the illusion that she wore nothing. Blake had the feeling that if she’d realized how damned sexy a picture she made, she would have found something else to wear.
“So what have you been up to the past ten years, Dee?”
She glanced at him. “Twelve,” she corrected in a soft voice. Then she shrugged. “Same as everybody else. Getting by.”
“The princess of Pike County ought to do more than get by,” Blake teased. It wasn’t a nickname she’d cared for and he’d purposely used it to see how she’d react. But he didn’t get the reaction he was hoping for. Which would have been any kind of reaction. The only response he got was a faint, polite smile. The kind of smile a person would give a stranger. Empty, meaningless and pointless.
He opened his mouth, about ready to try something else to get a reaction out of her. But instead, he reached out, cupped his hand over her elbow and guided her away from the laughter and the music. She didn’t resist but Blake couldn’t help noticing that she kept a careful distance between them. As soon as he let go of her arm, she backed away a good five feet.
Out of the blue, a memory flashed through Blake’s mind. That last night here at the lake before he left for that camp. The last time he saw Dee. They’d come down to the lake with plans to swim, fish and stay gone until way past curfew. When he’d picked Dee up, she had worn a pair of cut offs and a pale blue bikini. By the time night fell, it had cooled off and she’d ended up wearing an old denim shirt of his.
Manda had been down by the shore with Brad, while Blake and Dee were standing in possibly this same spot. Dee had her back against a tree. He could still remember how she looked, moonlight filtering down through the trees, her curls in a wild tumble around her face and shoulders. She’d reached for him, lifted her mouth to his. They’d been just a few seconds away from making love for the first time that night. Dee wouldn’t have said no, Blake didn’t think. But he was leaving in the morning for two months an
d he didn’t want to their first time to be followed by a separation.
Who ever would have thought a twelve-year old memory would have the power to turn his blood to lava? Hunger raged inside him and when he focused on Dee’s face, it was almost like he was staring at her through a time warp. He could see the dark hair, straight as a pin, falling to her shoulders and the plain, almost ugly utilitarian clothes and the unsmiling set of her face. But the memory of that last night kept superimposing itself and he saw her smiling and laughing, her arms reaching for him and her mouth opening for his.
“What happened to you, Dee?”
She lowered her lashes, shielding her gaze from him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bull.” Blake closed the distance between them, watching her the entire time. She didn’t move away. But everything about her went on edge. He could see it. Her body tensed. He could see her open her hands, flexing them, before closing them into tight fists.
“Something happened,” he murmured. He reached down and captured one wrist, lifting it. She resisted but he didn’t let go. He looked from her fisted hand to her face. “You look like you’re afraid of me, Dee.”
Her voice shook as she said, “I’m not afraid of you, Blake.” She tugged on her hand but he didn’t let go. Dipping his head, Blake kissed her knuckles. They’d gone white, she had her hand fisted so tight.
Not afraid? Yeah, like he was going to believe that. She was scared and she’d take off running if she could get away from him. He wanted to pull her close and soothe her, chase away whatever it was that had put those shadows in her eyes. Without even thinking about it, Blake started to stroke his thumb back and forth across her wrist.
Dee’s eyes widened, her pupils flared and her mouth went tight. She jerked against his hold again and Blake kissed her knuckles again, rubbed his thumb across the delicate skin of her wrist. “Talk to me, Dee.”
There were ridges on her soft skin—they didn’t register at first. Dee continued to struggle against his hold, harder, almost desperate. She managed to turn her wrist a little, pulling it in closer to her chest.
Beautiful Girl Page 3